The Marauders: A Hogwarts Tale

As the weekend arrived, classes were finally out, and the bustling students of Castle Excalibur were free to enjoy their time as they pleased. While many chose to remain within the castle walls to catch up on extracurriculars or relax in the lounges, others flooded the vibrant streets of Caerleon. The city offered something for everyone—be it hunting for exotic sweets and delicacies, browsing for supplies, losing oneself in a quiet corner with a book and a steaming cup of tea, or simply spending time with friends.

The streets were alive with activity. People of various races filled the walkways, and the hum of magical vehicles, known as aethercars, added to the city's soundtrack. These sleek contraptions glided smoothly over the asphalt roads, their engines powered by shimmering magical crystals that left trails of sparkling ethereal steam in the air. Bright neon screens adorned shop fronts and floated above sidewalks, projecting colorful signs and advertisements. Pedestrians held crystal-powered handheld devices, swiping through projected interfaces as they read news, exchanged messages, or scrolled through magical inventories.

Among the bustling crowd, three familiar figures strolled down the streets of Caerleon. Helga, Rowena, and Salazar had decided to leave the castle behind for a well-deserved day out. Bundled in warm jackets and scarves against the brisk autumn air, they weaved through the busy streets with purpose—or at least, Helga did.

"Oh, I can't wait to visit the Pixie Pantry!" Helga exclaimed, practically bouncing on her toes with excitement. Her amber eyes sparkled as her yellow jacket and matching scarf made her look like a cheerful badger in motion. "They've got a new flavor of Wondermire's Wild Bites—Dragonfruit Disaster! Just imagine the pop and fizz!"

Rowena sighed, though the corners of her lips twitched upward in a reluctant smile. Dressed in a tailored dark blue jacket and a sapphire scarf that complemented her composed demeanor, she gave her friend a pointed look. "Helga, you do realize we're supposed to be restocking potion ingredients, not indulging your insatiable sweet tooth, right?"

Salazar smirked, adjusting his green-and-silver scarf over his sleek black leather jacket. "Now, now, Rowena," he interjected, his tone teasing. "A little indulgence never hurt anyone. Besides," he added, his emerald eyes glinting with intrigue, "I've heard Cromley & Thorne just received a shipment of… rare artifacts. I'm quite curious to see what treasures they've got hidden in their vaults."

Helga rolled her eyes at Salazar but grinned nonetheless. "Rare artifacts, you say? Don't tell me you're looking for something to add to that ever-growing collection of yours."

Salazar tilted his head, his smirk deepening. "A wizard's collection is never complete, dear Helga. And who knows? Perhaps I'll find something extraordinary—a relic of power, a cursed trinket, or maybe just a trinket that looks cursed but turns out to be a paperweight."

The three laughed, their voices blending with the lively chatter of the city. As they turned a corner, the aroma of fresh pastries and brewing coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the hum of magical vehicles and neon-lit signs.

"It's a shame our dear friend Gryffindor isn't here to enjoy this with us," Salazar remarked. He made air quotes with his fingers. "On account of his… 'additional classes.'"

"Considering he started with no magical knowledge and is very late to the curriculum, I'd say he's been improving tremendously," Rowena said, her tone tinged with both pride and exasperation.

Salazar smirked slyly. "Unlike a certain someone we know who can't stop causing explosions." He flinched as Helga punched him squarely in the arm. "Ow! You absolute barbarian!"

"I'll have you know that was a one-time thing," Helga said, her grin unwavering.

Salazar raised an eyebrow, rubbing his arm. "It was Wingardium Leviosa. How in Scáthach's name did you manage to blow something up with a levitation spell?"

"Talent!" she declared, puffing out her chest, her grin now positively radiant.

Rowena, shaking her head, couldn't help but chuckle. "You're impossible, Helga," she said, though the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her fondness for the exchange.

****

Meanwhile, back in the castle, Godric stood in Professor Eridan's classroom, a quiet resolve burning in his crimson eyes. He took a deep breath, gripping his wand tightly as he pointed it toward an apple resting on the desk a few feet away. The dwarven professor observed from behind, his keen eyes focused on his student's every move.

"Alright, here goes," Godric muttered, his brow furrowed with concentration. He waved his wand with precision. "Accio, apple!"

The apple trembled slightly, wobbling as it lifted a few inches off the desk. A flicker of hope crossed Godric's face—a small smile of triumph. But the moment was fleeting as the apple dropped back onto the desk with a dull thud.

Godric's shoulders slumped, his wand lowering. "Blimey, I'll never get this down. It's hopeless, Professor."

"Patience, young Gryffindor," Professor Eridan said, stroking his long, braided beard. "Practice makes perfect. Magic is not a force to be commanded or dominated—it is a living energy, one to be harnessed and guided."

"But, Professor," Godric groaned, frustration bubbling to the surface. "This spell is taught to First-Years. I'm supposed to be a Third-Year!"

Professor Eridan walked over, placing a firm, reassuring hand on Godric's shoulder. His voice softened with understanding. "As talented as you are, thinking you'll catch up to your peers in two months, while they've had two years of training, is a fool's errand. It is no shame to admit to one's limitations."

He leaned in slightly, his tone more encouraging. "Until a year ago, you believed yourself to be mundane, completely unaware of your magical heritage. Yet here you are, learning, growing, pushing boundaries. That, my boy, is progress."

Godric let out a long sigh, staring at the apple with a mixture of frustration and longing. "I suppose you're right, Professor," he said reluctantly. "It doesn't change the fact that I'm still falling behind."

Professor Eridan chuckled softly. "Falling behind is only a problem if you stop moving forward, Godric. And from what I've seen…" He gave Godric a knowing look. "And heard, giving up isn't in your nature."

Professor Eridan's sharp blue eyes flicked toward Godric's longsword resting against the wooden wall. A smile then tugged at the corner of his lips. "Perhaps, we've been approaching this the wrong way," he said thoughtfully. "Now, think of your wand as you would your sword—an extension of yourself."

Godric's eyes widened in surprise, the words sparking a connection. "I… I guess I could try that."

"Good," the professor said, stepping back to observe. "Channel that focus and discipline you have with your blade into your magic. Trust in yourself."

Taking a steadying breath, Godric turned his attention back to the apple. Closing his eyes, he let Eridan's words sink in. An extension of myself… just like my sword. He opened his eyes, and this time, his crimson gaze burned with newfound determination.

Raising his wand with confidence, he spoke firmly, his voice clear and commanding. "Accio, apple!"

The apple glowed faintly, trembling before zipping through the air in a smooth arc. It landed perfectly in Godric's outstretched hand. His jaw dropped in astonishment, quickly replaced by a triumphant grin.

"I did it!" he exclaimed, leaping into the air and pumping his fist. "By Charlemagne, I actually did it!"

Professor Eridan clapped his hands together, his beard quivering with delight. "Well done, lad! I knew you had it in you all along. Now, shall we test that momentum with something a bit more… challenging?"

"Absolutely, Professor!" Godric nodded enthusiastically, his energy infectious. "What's next? Alohomora? Depulso? I feel like I could take on the whole world right now!"

****

As the weekend slipped by and classes resumed, the Great Hall buzzed with energy during breakfast. Students filled the long tables, their chatter and laughter mingling with the warm aroma of fresh pastries, sizzling sausages, and steaming mugs of tea.

"Ooh, they've truly outdone themselves this morning!" Helga's eyes widened with delight as she surveyed the spread of baked goods. "Is that scones I see? And caramel muffins? Oh, they'll be perfect with some Earl Grey!"

Rowena, seated across from her, rolled her eyes while balancing a book in one hand and her tea in the other. "Helga, must everything revolve around food for you?"

Salazar smirked, his green-and-silver scarf draped casually around his neck as he meticulously buttered his toast. "Really, Rowena, why are you still surprised? Helga's love affair with food is as predictable as the sunrise."

Helga grinned unrepentantly, pausing mid-reach for another muffin. "What can I say? A girl's got her priorities."

The playful conversation was interrupted when Headmaster Blaise rose from the high table. His imposing presence immediately quieted the hall, drawing every gaze to him. He cleared his throat, his raspy, baritone voice carrying effortlessly across the room.

"Students, as Old Hollow's Eve approaches, I am delighted to remind you once again of one of our most cherished traditions—the Samhain Ball."

Godric, seated next to Helga, paused mid-sip of his pumpkin juice. He leaned toward his friends; his brow furrowed. "The Samhain Ball? What's that about?"

Without looking up, Rowena answered with a bored shrug. "Just an overhyped gathering with costumes, music, and food. It's not exactly groundbreaking. I skipped it last year and might do the same again."

"Speak for yourself!" Helga exclaimed, her face lighting up. "The buffet is legendary! Cakes, candies, pies—it's heaven on earth!"

Salazar leaned back in his chair, folding his arms with a sly grin. "Ah, but the ball isn't just about the food, is it? It's also an opportunity to bring a plus one. Quite the… social event."

Godric rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "A proper ball, huh? I've only been to simple village gatherings back home. Weddings, birthdays, things like that. This might be… interesting."

Headmaster Blaise's voice rose again, commanding the hall's attention as he spread his arms wide. "Prepare your finest attire, sharpen your wits, and remember… it is a night where the veil thins, and all manner of magic stirs. Make it a night to remember. I wish you all a good week ahead."

The hall erupted into chatter as students buzzed with excitement, the prospect of the Samhain Ball hanging in the air like a spark ready to ignite.

Helga clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with delight. "Oh, it's going to be absolutely brilliant! Godric, you simply must come. I'll show you all the best treats—they're to die for!"

Salazar raised an eyebrow, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "Planning to bring someone special, Godric? Or… perhaps hoping someone might ask you?"

Godric flushed, the tips of his ears turning red. "I… I hadn't really thought about it," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "Is that expected?"

"Don't let Salazar pressure you," Rowena said, snapping her book shut with a sharp thud. "Most students go alone. It's about enjoying the evening, not obsessing over a date."

"Though…" Helga leaned toward Godric with a mischievous grin. "If you are looking, I might know a couple of interested parties who'd love to be the plus one of the Lion of Ignis himself."

Godric groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "Seriously, that again? Ever since that duel at The Congregation, everyone's been calling me that. It's so embarrassing."

Salazar rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Honestly, Gryffindor, it's not every day someone earns a title in The Congregation. It's not like you waltz in and make up a flashy name for yourself, expecting people to go along with it. Titles are earned—badges of honor, awarded solely through remarkable feats."

"Doesn't make it any less awkward," Godric muttered, his face still hidden behind his hands. "Feels like the whole school's got a magnifying glass on me."

Rowena softened. "If it helps, Godric, no one expects you to live up to some grand reputation overnight. Just enjoy yourself and let the rest sort itself out."

"Yeah!" Helga chimed in. "And who knows? Maybe you'll find a reason to like the name. It is rather dashing, you know."

Godric peeked up at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You think so?"

"Absolutely!" Helga said firmly, then grabbed another muffin. "Now, let's focus on the important things—what are you wearing to the ball?"

Godric ran a hand through his crimson hair, ruffling it slightly as he sighed. "Can we just focus on classes for now?" he said, his tone half-pleading. "The ball's still a ways off, isn't it?" He reached for a slice of toast, hoping to steer the conversation to safer ground.

Helga pouted dramatically. "Oh, come on, Godric! Where's your sense of adventure? A ball is more than just a dance—it's an experience!"

Rowena arched an eyebrow over the rim of her teacup. "It's an evening, Helga, not a grand quest. You're making it sound like we're preparing for battle."

"In Helga's case, it might as well be," Salazar quipped, a sly smirk curling on his lips as he reached for the marmalade. "The way she ravages the buffet table, I wouldn't be surprised if they start rationing the desserts before the night was over."

Before he could savor his wit, a sharp punch landed on his arm, making him yelp. "Ow! You wild animal!" Salazar exclaimed, rubbing the spot where Helga's fist had connected.

Godric chuckled softly, shaking his head as he bit into his toast. "You lot are ridiculous."

"And you love us for it," Helga said with a grin.

He smiled faintly. Despite the chaos of their conversations, he couldn't help but feel a small flicker of excitement for what was to come.